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Quinn didn’t interrupt.

I crossed the room and sat beside him on the bed. “I’ve spent a long time keeping things compartmentalised,” I continued. “Scenes. Music. Friends. Each part of my life in its own place.”

“And tonight they overlapped,” Quinn said quietly.

“Yes.”

He leaned back on his hands. “Was that terrible?”

I didn’t hesitate. “No.”

His gaze sharpened, still studying me. “So you came back because you didn’t want to run away from it.”

I allowed myself a small smile. “Something like that.”

Quinn watched me for another moment, then his expression softened.

“Good.” Then he smiled again, but this time, the light reached his eyes. He gestured to our surroundings. “Welcome to the least glamorous part of my world.”

I grinned. “It’s not so terrible.”

Quinn huffed a laugh. “High praise.”

“I’m just being honest.”

He stretched his legs out. “I usually read up here when the house gets loud.” His eyes sparkled. “Especially Wednesdays. Jess and Maya watch terrible reality shows on Wednesdays.” He stared at the other end of the room and I followed his gaze. A stack of books sat on the desk beside a battered desk lamp. “If you ever want to work on your music while you’re here, you’re welcome to use the desk.”

The words landed casually.

I studied him. “You’re already allocating space for me?”

Quinn blinked, then laughed. “Well… yes.”

“Without asking.”

“You came back,” he said simply. “That seemed like a reasonable indicator.” Then he straightened. “I’m not rearranging your life,” he added, his tone gentle but certain. “I’m just leaving the door open.”

The quiet confidence in that statement settled somewhere deep in my chest. He wasn’t asking me to stay.

He was assuming I might want to.

The unsettling part was that the assumption felt entirely reasonable. From my experience, however, most people pushed when they wanted something.

Quinn simply made room.

He studied me for another long moment, and I wished I could read what lay behind those eyes. Then he rubbed the back of his neck and said, almost casually, “Since you’re here… do you want tea?”

The question was so normal it caught me off guard.

“Yes,” I declared. Tea felt… normal.

Quinn grinned. “Good. Because if this conversation gets any more emotionally sincere, I’m going to need caffeine.”

I snorted. “Then you’re a brave man.”

His brow furrowed. “How does going downstairs to grab two mugs of tea make me brave?”

I grinned. “Because that means running the gauntlet of inevitable questions and sly digs from your housemates.”